


the sleepover has the phone box

by rainybaby



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Cuddle Pile, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Kissing, M/M, Nazi mention, Platonic Cuddling, canon-typical alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainybaby/pseuds/rainybaby
Summary: Aziraphale, Crowley, Dean, Castiel, and the Eleventh Doctor get together for a sleepover in the TARDIS.This is very self-indulgent, and unedited.  I was lonely and wanted cuddles so I imagined some of my favorite characters together in a cuddle pile instead.  I'm not sure it's shippy enough for the shipping and relationship tags.  I hope it's okay!  I also wasn't sure if I should add the TARDIS as a character, but she is there.Edit: I completely forgot to add that I don't know how I'm supposed to tag nonbinary characters in a relationship.  I went with M/M for the actors who play them in the shows.





	the sleepover has the phone box

“What time did you say he’d be here, angel?” Crowley asked, pointedly glancing to where the sun was starting to set.

“I did tell you that he - oh, that should be him now!” Aziraphale perked up and stared hopefully in the direction of the agreed-upon patch of grass. There was a creaking, rustling, whooshing noise coming from somewhere. As they watched, the shape of a blue police box shimmered in the air before materializing solidly with a thud.

Crowley looked around. Aziraphale was smiling as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and the humans were walking around unbothered. “He thinks they naturally don’t notice, the dear boy,” Aziraphale explained fondly, noticing Crowley’s confusion. “Just a little miracle.”

The door swung open and a fashion disaster of Aziraphale levels leaned out. He was wearing a bow-tie and suspenders, his shoes were ridiculous, and - was that a fez? A matching voice startled Crowley out of his horror: “Did I get the right century this time?"

“Aziraphale,” Crowley hissed, “what kind of madman have you adopted?”

“One with a box!” The madman in question twirled around, grinning, and narrowly avoided falling over. His hands did a little dance that they seemed to have made up on their own without input from any sort of brain. “Come on in!”

Crowley followed Aziraphale into a separate dimension. There was a lot of machinery. There was also an angel. And a human. 

“Aziraphale,” the other angel said by way of greeting. His voice was deep and a bit scratchy. “It’s good to see you again. How are things going for you?”

“Well, we almost had an apocalypse, but it’s fine now. What about you?”

“Oh. We had another one of those - how many weeks ago now, Dean?”

“Three, I think. And a couple of days. You know Sammy’s better at this than I am.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gave a pleased little wiggle. “And this is Crowley. Say hi, Crowley!”

“I’m not a child,” Crowley grumbled, but gave a halfhearted wave anyway.

The fashion disaster, seemingly the host of this gathering, popped up again. “So! Introductions! Those have been done. I’m the Doctor! Come with me, there are bunk beds!”

The group followed the Doctor down a hall and into a room filled with cushions (but no bunk beds). The Doctor promptly left the room again. He could be heard arguing with the walls. Aziraphale sighed, mouthed “stay here,” and joined in the argument, apparently on the walls’ behalf.

Crowley turned to the angel and the human he had been left with, and fumbled for something to say. The human managed it first. “I know someone else named Crowley,” he said, lamely.

“Oh… cool?” Crowley shifted awkwardly. “I’ve known multiple people named Dean.” He paused. “One was a murderer.”

“This Dean probably counts as a murderer too, at least by some standards,” the angel said conversationally. “I’m Castiel. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Um. Quite.” Crowley attempted to smile.

“I don’t usually kill humans. Just, you know, demons and stuff,” Dean reassured him.

Crowley’s smile attempt died in hellish agony. “That’s nice to know.”

“Crowley is a demon,” Castiel explained to Dean.

“Ah.” Dean stared at the doorway, obviously hoping that someone would come back to break up this… whatever it was. He looked back. “Why, exactly, are we here?”

“Sleepovers are enjoyable activities for friends to do together,” Castiel informed him. “We are friends with each other. I am friends with the Doctor, and with Aziraphale, who is friends with Crowley. It will be so much fun.” He looked very unsure of this last statement.

“I was a demon for, like, three days, once,” Dean burst out after several seconds of awkward tension. 

“Cool!” Crowley inwardly cringed at his reaction to this. “I’ve never been a human. I’ve been a snake, though.”

“I hate snakes,” Dean said vehemently. The conversation stopped again, and they stood around until finally, blessedly, Aziraphale came back with the Doctor, both carrying several bottles of something alcoholic. Things got better from there.

Even though the Doctor had spit out the first and only mouthful of wine he’d taken, and refused to even consider trying again, he was acting drunker than any of the rest of them, and was currently residing in Castiel’s lap, having a staring contest with Crowley. 

Crowley won, quickly and easily, and almost immediately leaned in to whisper, “Hey. Hey. Do you dare me to kiss Aziraphale?”

Castiel and the Doctor looked over to where Aziraphale was talking to Dean, then back. “Um-” the Doctor started.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Crowley said, grinning. He hiccupped and started getting up.

“But we-” and he was already gone.

Crowley sauntered over to Aziraphale, who turned and smiled at him. “Oh, hello, dear! We were just discussing how Nazis are a problem in both our worlds. It’s positively awful.”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, and moved much closer than necessary for a conversation. “Hi, angel.”

Dean looked extremely uncomfortable, and glanced around the room. He eventually decided to move over to Castiel and the Doctor and sit by them instead. They all awkwardly watched as Crowley tried to kiss Aziraphale, mostly missed, and subsequently tripped and fell over with him into the cushions.

Castiel looked determined and thoughtful for a second, then stared at the Doctor and asked, at a normal speaking volume, “Do you dare me to kiss Dean?”

Dean’s face immediately went red.

The Doctor fell out of Castiel’s lap from surprise. “You’re supposed to - that’s not - the tradition is to say that when he’s not sitting right next to you, and can’t hear you,” he explained from the floor.

Dean leaned over and quickly kissed Castiel’s cheek. 

Castiel looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Cuddle pile!” Aziraphale yelled from under Crowley.

The Doctor grinned, stood up too fast, fell over, stood up again, and fell over again (this time on purpose) on top of Crowley. Aziraphale made a happy squished noise from under them, and another when Dean joined the pile (possibly to avoid the consequences of his actions - it didn’t work too well, as Castiel joined immediately after him and wouldn’t let go for the rest of the night).


End file.
